Magnolioideae
by Devilish Kurumi
Summary: Dib turned Zim away once before... Ten years later, he doesn't know if he can do it again. The fate of more than one alien rests with Dib's decisions, even if he doesn't know it. [slash. femmeslash. violence. sensitive content.]
1. One

**A/N:** It's been FOREVER since I've put an Author's Note in a fic. I usually write Final Fantasy 9 fic, but I've had this one bouncing about on my harddrive for a while - ever since I saw _Magnolia_ - and figured I should put up what I've got to see how people react. It will have slash, as well as femmeslash, and I do kind of butcher some characters. Not really OOC butcher... more like... well, you'll see. (If you've read _End of Times,_ you'll get what I mean by butcher.)

* * *

The bar is, in all appearances, the same as every other dingy bar the city could possibly offer – the same as every bar in those old film noir movies that he used to watch all the time.

He clinks the ice in his glass and says, when the bartender arrives to refill his drink, "I used to be smart." The bartender smiles, an uneasy grin full of braces, and replaces the drink. He laughs dryly in response to that grin. "Now, I'm just..." He drops his head into his hands, "Stupid."

With a groan, he knocks back the glass of bourbon, fully draining it before throwing a few tens on the counter. Who cares if it's too much – it's not as if he needs it. He laughs at his own humor and nearly falls into the door.

"You want me to call a cab?" the bartender asks.

"Hah. Like I would want to do that. I need to walk. I'm getting fat."

The bartender casts a frown at the patron's unhealthily thin form and then says, "If you say so..."

"I say so," he snaps, "Why does no one _ever_ believe me?"

The night is cold but he's found that it's refreshing after a few drinks, so he walks along the sidewalk in the dimly lit city, arms widespread and shaggy black hair framing his face, grease preventing it from getting into his eyes. Cold, cold, cold, and his face feels warm, warm, warm – what a perfect night.

"It's so pretty," he says to the empty streets, staring at the sky above, "When you're looking up at it."

His foot lands on something hard and a metallic crunch reaches his ears. When he goes to kick the debris away, it responds with a dim, crackling noise, like a broken radio. He looks down, and suddenly three glasses of bourbon isn't enough.

He hasn't seen anything like this in – in _years_. Years, years of knowing and not stopping and then stopping and not knowing _why_ –

He kneels down and picks the little metal body up, cradling it as he would a child. "Gir?" he asks, staring in confusion. The little robot's eyes – usually bright cyan and empty of all reason but full of crazy happiness – are blackened, dimmed and shut off, with cracks in them and dents all over his body. A closer examination warrants the discovery of dried purple blood on his hands.

"Gir!" he exclaims, looking over the robot in a newfound panic. He's now knowing and stopping and trying to go with rusted wheels – "Gir, come on!"

Shaking gets no response and so he sits, cross-legged under a streetlight, and opens the front panel of the little body. The inside is a mish-mash of torn wires and sparking circuits, but after so long he still understands how computers work and he goes about tying the copper-ish strands inside coated wires together, trying to get more than a few sparks.

Eyes glow cyan and Gir's voice yelps, "Master!" before they go out again. He frowns and quickly goes about setting random switches to what looks like on, before finishing the last, red wire.

The eyes glow again and stay lit, flickering slightly but operational. The SIR unit cries out, "Master, where _are_ you?" before noticing the man above him. A grin grows out of his frown and he shouts, "Dibby!" He looks shocked, "Your _head_! It's not big no more!"

"Gee, thanks," Dib mutters to himself, scratching at his stubble. "Gir, what are you doing here? I thought you were..."

"Master told me to leave!" The cyan eyes water – how Gir does that, Dib _still_ doesn't know – and the robot cries, "Someone came to see him and he told me to leave! I was gonna make a cake for him!"

"Wait – Zim's... Zim's _here_?" He looks about, as if he could spot the alien, "Zim left! He's on Earth?"

Gir nods, "Uh huh!" He grins widely and continues, "He had to go for a while so I got to stay home alone! Piggy and I had lots of fun, and the Scary Monkey Show, and then there was that time with the laser rainbow...! But then he came back and said... and said..." The robot frowns, then grins and shrugs, "I dunno!"

"Someone... Someone came to see Zim?" Dib frowns, and then looks at the sky. "What did this person look like, Gir?"

The robot umm's for a while and then shrugs again, "I dunno!"

"Gir," Dib grits his teeth – this would be a lot easier if he were just a _little_ drunker, "This is _very_ important, okay? Did Zim – Did your master tell you to _do _anything, before he kicked you out?"

More umm'ing and then the robot shakes his head, "He just said 'don't come back!' But I know he didn't mean it, Master _loves_ me!"

"I'm sure he does," the human frowns, cradling the robot as he stands, "It's not good for you to be out without your disguise, though, Gir!" he scolds, feeling guilty for abusing the robot like he is, "We should go back and get it. Zim would be mad if he saw you out here like this, wouldn't he?"

"Master don't care 'bout none of that stuff no more!" Gir chirrups, "But I wanna make a cake! Can we make a cake at your house, Dibby?"

The human sighs and looks around. This worries him – Zim is _back_, has _visitors_, and kicked Gir _out_? And there's Irken blood on the little robot's hands...

Still. If he has to worry about Gir ruining anything he might plan...

"Alright, Gir, you can bake a cake at my house."

"Can we see Gazzy?"

A frown graces Dib's pale face. "Probably not... we don't live together, you know, Gir. People don't always stay together."

"That's not true," the robot says in an oddly clear way, "Master and me and you will always stay together! We're... We're _family_!"

Dib looks at the robot in his arms and then shakes his head, picking up his pace. "I don't know about that, Gir. Family bonds aren't all that strong around here."

* * *

Dib hates coming back to this place, but it's his home, now, with Dad...

Well, it's his home, and as long as he locks the door to the labs, Gir should be fine here by himself. The idea makes the human shudder, but still...

The old house is no longer made of pristine white walls and well trimmed lawns – years of abuse have left the paint peeling and the lawns overgrown with weeds. The only thing the same about the house is all of the furniture – but it's all aged and stained from long nights in and take out food. He would get new furniture – God knows he can afford it – but sentimentality has always been one of his weaker points.

Once he finishes fiddling with the front door, he enters and deposits the robot on the threadbare couch, going to the basement door and locking it. "Okay, Gir, why don't you just stay here and watch TV, or something?"

"Where are you goin', Dibby?" the robot asks in curiosity.

"Well... I'm gonna go get cake mix for you to bake a cake, okay?"

"Yay cake!"

Dib puts the remote next to Gir and hopes that, when he returns, the place won't be utterly destroyed. He locks the front door, just in case, before taking off down the street at the fastest pace his alcohol-addled mind can take him.

The base is... well, it sure is a sight to behold. His last time here had been five years ago, just before his twenty-second birthday. It has been a long time since then, and its obvious Gir had no idea that the outside world had even existed. The peeling paint, rusted metal, decapitated gnomes and weeds all denote the emptiness of the house – but there's something strange about the layout of the heads of the animated gnomes. They're lying about, anywhere from five to ten feet from the bodies – not just a mere roll down the angled bodies, that's for sure.

He feels something inside him swell up and he moves quickly to the door, noticing that the men's room sign is missing, and that the rudimentary lock has been blown out. An icy feeling wrenches his gut and he pushes the door open, moving silently through the cold, dusty, and dark upper level.

_Everything here looks as bad as my place_, Dib thinks, wondering what that says about him. He reaches the kitchen and sees that, among other things, the trashcan elevator has been blown away, leaving a gaping hole in the floor.

More importantly – there's a bottle of _something_ lying nearby. He picks it up and looks at the label. "Rum, huh? Can Zim even _drink_?" With a shrug, he knocks some of the bottle back, before putting it on the counter and looking into the black hole. "Well... what is there for me to lose?"

_Nothing_, his mind responds, and so he crawls down.

The metal that was once smooth and polished is now rusted and chipped, giving Dib some grip against gravity. He struggles his way down the long elevator shaft, wondering where the hell the elevator itself is. If this were another time – another, _long_ time ago – he would have been excited to be doing this daredevil stuff; but he's twenty-seven now and it just doesn't do it for him anymore.

He reaches the inner sanctum of the labs after what feels like hours, and takes his time to look at the equipment. He's sure that, if the lights were on instead of this purple-red glow, he would see dust caking everything. If this were another time... He almost feels the phantom weight of the video camera in his hands, and takes his time looking over alien technology. He gave this stuff up when he found out Zim was gone... Maybe it's time to get back into it.

He slips a little and looks down through the nightlight to find dark purple on the dusty, matte silver floor. His stomach leaps and he follows the path of Irken blood through the dark and suddenly foreboding machinery.

In the red-purple glow of the auxiliary lighting, he sees the five-foot-one figure of the most influential being in his life.

Wet, hoarse choking noises escape the small alien's throat as he lies there, splayed out on his side, against the cold metal flooring. The puddle of blood is thick around him, and there are sparks flying from behind him – no doubt his pak has been damaged.

"Zim...!"

Almost flat-colored scarlet eyes look up, half lidded and almost lifeless. In between coughs, the Irken manages a weak grin – too elated to see Dib for the other's comfort.

"I... D-_Dib_... Filthy... fi..." Cough, choke, wheeze, "H-Help Zim?"

"_Help you?" Dib asks, crossing his arms across his chest, "You're trying to destroy the Earth, remember?"_

"_Dib-**beast**! This is not the time for idle chitchat – I am..." A wince, a groan, "I am in need of your assistance, human. Do you realize what this means?"_

"_It means you're crazy. **Let** them take you away – I won't have to worry about saving the Earth anymore! Go away, Zim, leave me **alone**! I have my own problems, okay?" He slams the door, makes it to the stairs, and then thinks that maybe he should try. Is he morally justified in not helping the other – alien or not?_

_When he returns to the door and opens it, Zim is already gone._

"Help you?" Dib asks, shaking from head to toe and hating that swig of rum that didn't help his nerves, "Who do you think I _am_?"

"P-_Please_."

Zim never begs and this makes Dib's terror all the more real.

"I- pa...oh, Tallest..."

The human comes forward, "Your _Tallest_ did this to you?"

"...N-No... p... please, Dib...?"

"...What..." He looks around at shut off machinery, "What do you need me to do?"

Zim reaches out a shaking, bloody hand and Dib takes it. "H-Help... up, but... hold pak, hold it – pl-please." Dib doesn't understand quite but starts to pull the other up anyways; the alien cries out and reaches a hand behind him. Dib stops, looks over, and nearly retches.

The pak is hanging by cords of muscle and tubing, half dislodged from the other's body and letting the blood escape in thick globs. He can see bone – oh, God, he can see _bone_! Zim bites the human's shoulder with zipper teeth but Dib can't find a reason to stop him, feeling the scream vibrate and choke and die on his shirt, in his skin.

"Zim!" he cries, suddenly seeing what "hold the pak" meant, and he cautiously pushes the pak towards the other's back, back to its original place.

"Yes," Zim hisses, "T-That – just l-like that. Up, now, up!"

Shaking hands keep the pak against peeling skin – like paint – and pull the alien to his feet. Zim wraps one arm around the other's waist, leaning fully and biting his tongue, shrieking muffled slightly.

"O-Over, th-t-there, bed, medical. Need..."

"Alright, o-okay. Slowly, don't-"

There's no fire in Zim's eyes but it's in his voice, "I know w-what to do!"

The human is silent and carefully leads the alien in the direction that he has been pointed, arriving at a single metal table surrounded by hanging wires and computers.

"O-On the... the..."

The pak sparks.

"Who... who am... on the b-bed, Dib," Zim rasps, holding one hand over his face, "Pl... oh..."

"Okay, okay Zim, its okay." Dib helps the alien up, holding the pak tightly and trying not to throw up as hot blood gushes over his hand, already congealing against the cool air, though it isn't helping the situation at all.

Zim lies on his stomach and looks blindly to his left. "D-Dib, th-there's... the cord, the core of th-the pak – pick- take it... t-take plug it..."

_Take it_?

Dib looks to the pack and sees something covered in blood sticking out just a little between flesh and metal. He steels his nerves, thinks _this is what you need to do_, and then grabs it, carefully unwinding it. Zim howls but tells him to keep going, screaming and sobbing without tears. The human looks at all of the powered-off equipment and sees a plug similar to the one on this long tube he's holding, so he forces it in the slot.

"G-Good... Good, D-Dib, now... now..."

Zim doesn't speak for a moment, and Dib supplies, "Turn it on?"

"Yes!" Zim shrieks suddenly, as if he's found gold, "Th-that's it."

If the Irken can't even remember such a simple instruction... Dib hurries to find the power button.

It's big and red and man, he's glad Zim has such easy computers – he presses the button and lights turn on in all directions.

Zim shrieks and whines, "It _hurts_!"

"I know, Zim," Dib mumbles, "Is there anything else I have to do?"

"N-No... takes care... self... who...?"

The human comes to the bed and kneels down to be face-to-face with Zim. He hasn't grown at _all_ – not that Dib expected it, ever since he reached five-foot-four and Zim was still five-one like when he was twelve.

"It hurts," the alien whispers.

"I know it does, Zim, its okay." He reaches out and touches an antenna – Zim winces. "Is it broken?"

"H...Hurts, very... v-very badly."

"Okay. Will this machine fix you?"

A coughing, wet laugh, "Can Zim be fixed?"

The question, especially coming from _Zim_, is so left-field that Dib can't respond. The computer is running diagnostics already, and sparks are flying from the pak, but Zim is no longer screaming. Is that good or bad?

"Who did this, Zim?"

No response, and red eyes close.

"Zim? Who – who did this to you?"

"Diagnostics complete. Repairs at zero percent – estimated time to completion: two hours."

Dib looks at the computer and sighs.

"Antibiotics given," the computer continues in its monotone voice, "Anesthetic applied. Estimated time to completion: two hours, fifteen minutes. Power at twelve percent – standby mode activated."

The human looks at Zim, and then asks nobody in particular, "You're being put in standby for a virus scan?"

"Negative," the computer responds to the question, "Virus scan completed – no virus detected. Blood pressure low – infusion started."

"Great," the human sighs, "Tell me when you're getting close to finished."

"Affirmative."

He walks away and collapses into the swivel chair in front of the main computer. Taking off his glasses, Dib rubs his face and tries to steady shaking hands, before realizing that he's just gotten blood all over him.

"Great," he rasps, not as sure as before, "Great."

* * *

_Zim tries. He always tries, and always fights, but bigger and better things tend to sideswipe him – as is the case now. His head is held by one massive, scaly gray claw, squeezing and twisting his antenna painfully. If this had been any other Irken, they would have tried to self destruct by now – but not Zim. Zim has long since grown past that phase._

"_Where is the other, Zim?" the assailant snarls, but Zim is not one to tell._

_Zim whines as sparks fly from his pak, the iron weapon bending in between skin and metal._

"_I will **destroy you**, Zim! You ran away from us and with the Tallest..." A laugh, cold and hollow, "...out of order... I decide what happens!" Now the voice turns buttery and arsenic flows, "Tell me where the other is, and I will let you come back in one piece."_

_Oh, Zim wishes he could – could - ... but it **hurts**! It feels like his pak is being ripped from his body and how can an Irken remember anything with that going on?_

"_S-Stop!" he wails._

"_Where is the other one, Zim? Where **is it**?"_

_Metal digs deeper. Other – other? There's another? Who brought him here... he had been in no condition to fly but now – now he can't remember –_

"_D-Don't know!"_

_The metal drives deep in between the pak and his flesh, and Zim can't remember his own name. He shrieks and then falls limp – no one would do this to an Irken! No one – no race is this cruel, not even his own –_

"_**Where**, Zim? End your suffering now."_

_He whines and twitches but can't speak. He doesn't know the language anymore._

"_You're **pathetic**, Zim," the assailant growls._

_Jerk, stab, crack – Zim screams at the top of his chords and sobs dryly. He's thrown to the ground on his face, and the assailant sighs. "Useless! That damned robot will do better."_

"_H-He...!" Zim tries, he tries because Gir doesn't even know anything, "D-Don't..."_

_He can't breathe – it's all wet and rasping._

"_Night-night, Zim."_

* * *

The club is the same as every other club in the city – the same as every club in all those old movies she watched her last time here. Pumping bass and colored hair, with fruity mixed drinks and not a shot glass in sight.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and looks around – it's exactly as she remembers it. This whole place, it's the same. Nothing seems to ever change here...

With just a few dollars thrown down for the less-than-numbing conversation she just finished with the bartender, she takes her leave, exiting the throbbing bass and the lights for the dim outside world, covered in brick.

She takes to walking, mind uneasily clear, and when she turns the alleyway to start back where she needs to go –

"_There_ you are."

She stops, dead in her tracks. That _voice_! She thought she'd never hear it again – she thought they'd gotten out –

"You know, Irkens are really a horribly fastidious race. Just can't settle for slavery like the rest of the galaxy, can you?"

A hand grabs her and she tries not to scream because she's not scared, damn it, she's _not_! They were supposed to be safe here – such a backwater planet, how could _anyone_ follow an unregistered –

"And you and I had such a _good_ deal."

"Get your hands off me," she snarls, clenching a fist to keep from shaking.

"Tak," the cold voice growls, massive hands clenching at her shoulder and pak, "You know very well that you're going to be in a lot of trouble if you keep this up. Now, then, you and I are going home."

She tears away from his grasp and slides into a fighting position. "I _said_; get your damned hands off of me!"

The massive shadow looms above her and she doesn't want to go back, not one bit.

"She said to leave her alone."

The dull voice is completely uninterested but at the same time holds malicious intent. The shadow turns and she can see a young woman standing there, with dark, curled purple hair, and narrowed amber eyes.

"Oh, look at _you_," the shadow says in a voice she knows well.

"Run, you _stupid human_!"

The eyes narrow into real slits now and a gloved hand raises, pointing at the shadow. "I think you should go now," the human hisses.

"Oh really?"

"_Now_."

Fire swells up inside Tak and she moves backwards, eyes wide. What kind of human _was this_?

The shadow staggers slightly and then snarls, "What kind of _woman_ are you?" before turning to look at Tak with burning yellow eyes. "I _will_ find you, and I _will_ take you home."

"I have no home with _you_," she spits.

The shadow moves and is gone, leaving the two women to stare at each other.

The human shrugs and turns to keep walking.

"What _are you_?" Tak asks – she has to, there's no choice.

"A girl," the other responds, looking at the clouds above. "It's going to rain. You don't have an umbrella, do you."

It's not a question so Tak shakes her head in agreement, also looking at the sky in apprehension.

"Come on, then. I know someone who will want to see you. We can take my car."

A drop of rain lands on her head and it burns, so she takes off after the taller woman.

"Who are you?" she asks, as they approach a black Jaguar convertible. Even without being on the planet often, Tak can see that the car is _expensive_. It looks almost futuristic – for Earth, at least. It's vintage in the rest of the universe.

"Someone who couldn't give less of a shit about aliens," the human replies, and the car beeps once as the lights come on. She goes to the driver's side and motions to the passenger seat. "Get in."

"You still haven't answered my question!" Tak exclaims, doing what the other says nonetheless, feeling another drop of rain.

"Be that as it may, it won't matter soon. I'd rather get you out of my hair and into someone else's." Once seated and strapped in, the driver turns on the car. "After all, maybe _you_ can get him out of this crappy mood he's in."

She pulls out of the parallel parking spot and takes off down the street. Tak looks at her for a long time, and then says, "You look so familiar."

The woman simply adjusts mirrors and ignores Tak without reservation.

* * *


	2. Momentum

The house is locked, and this surprises Gaz more than anything. Dib is _always_ here – always in the lab, with the door open so anyone can waltz in and take the bad memories away – where the _hell_ would a recluse like him go?

No matter; she knows how to get through locked doors.

A quick jerk and a flick of her wrist and the door yields – the Irken behind her is covering her head with Gaz's own jacket, looking around in confusion.

"This is-"

"Yeah, yeah."

The human motions for the other to come in, closing the door behind and locking it. "You can take off that stupid hologram, now."

Tak looks at herself and then frowns. "I'm... afraid I can't."

"Why the hell not?" Gaz looks around – why is the TV on?

"Well... We escaped, but my clothing wasn't... with me at the time. I've not had the energy or money to buy new clothing, and my hologram makes my life easier."

The human stares and then shakes her head, thudding up the stairs. "Come on, then. Dib doesn't throw anything away – my old clothes should be here somewhere."

Tak follows and they enter Gaz's old room – a snap of her fingers turns on the lights and turns off the automatic security drones she never got rid of. She doesn't want Dib going into her room – even if it's been _forever_.

"Here," she says, handing a pile of black and purple to the alien, "You can wear that."

"...Thank you," the Irken mumbles, stepping into the bathroom attached to her room.

Gaz crosses her arms and leans against the wall, looking around the dusty room. Nothing's different... Dib really listened to her.

"Why don't you have any clothing?"

"It's not important."

"Huh. So who was the big guy?"

"Not important."

Gaz grunts as the small alien exits. She's only about five-two, but with Gaz looking at five-four, the other looks almost younger. The human knows that that's a total lie.

"I doubt it's not important."

Tak opens her mouth to respond when the pile of stuffed animals on Gaz's old bed bursts, sending animals everywhere and a hyperactive alien robot to the human's waist.

"Gazzy!"

"What the – get off me!" She stares down at Gir for a long moment and then sighs. "What are you doing here?"

"I was playin' hide 'n seek with the moose!"

"What moose – _get off_!" She throws the robot to the bed and it screams with joy, grinning up at the two women.

"Your antennae are pretty, purple lady!" Gir exclaims.

"Isn't that... Zim's SIR?" Tak asks, taken aback, "What is it doing here?"

"That's what _I'd_ like to know." The purple-haired human glares down into the hall and shrieks, "_Dib!_"

"Dibby went to get cake mix!" the robot says, "I love him!"

Gaz glares at Gir for a long moment, before sighing and shaking her head. "Right. I guess he hasn't gone crazy, then."

"SIR," Tak commands, taking a steely pose, "Where is your master? Where is Zim?"

"Zim left a long time ago," Gaz mutters, crossing her arms. "Bailed for some reason or another."

"You are quite mistaken," Tak responds, frowning. "Zim was... we escaped together."

"Escaped _what_?"

"It... It's a long story." She looks back to Gir, "Tell me, where is Zim?"

"He's at home! Someone came to see him so he told me to leave! But I was gonna bake a cake so I went to the store, but then Master's friend found me and then... and then..." A long umm, "And then Dibby woke me up! And we came here and I watched TV and then he said I'm gonna get to bake a cake so I came up here to play hide 'n seek and then-"

"We get it, Gir," Gaz grumbles.

"That means... if he came for you..."

Gaz watches Tak sink to her knees, antennae flat against her head and eyes wide. "Oh _Irk_."

With a longsuffering sigh, Gaz digs her cell phone from her purse and dials a number.

It rings.

* * *

The piercing polyphonic ringtone knocks Dib out of his stupor and causes the computer behind him, by the medical table, to beep in annoyance. At least, Dib _thinks_ its annoyance.

"Sorry," he says, well aware that he's apologizing to a computer, and pulls the phone from his coat pocket. The number is Gaz's and he wonders if he should answer.

He knows what will happen if he doesn't, so he sighs heavily and flips it open.

"Gaz."

"Dib."

"It's been a while since you've called... thought you forgot my number."

"I have to remember two hundred different numerical passwords. A phone number is easy."

He sighs and puts his glasses back on. "What do you want, Gaz?"

"I ran into a friend of yours. Pretty upset. Where are you?"

"I'm..." _Where, Dib?_ he asks himself, _Where are you?_ "I'm not home right now."

"I know _that_. You left that damned robot here alone, too, which is enough reason to beat the shit out of you. Where are you?"

"Shit," he rasps, covering his mouth, "Gir didn't-"

"_Where_, Dib?" Her tone holds no room for other conversation. He looks to the medical bay.

"Zim's."

His sister clicks her tongue over the phone and she sighs. "So, is he dead?"

"_What_?"

"Zim. Is he dead, or not?"

"I... No- I mean, no. No, he's alive." _For now_, his brain adds silently.

"Have you been drinking?"

"A little. Enough to keep from going insane."

He can hear his sister's smirk in her voice, "You've always been insane... Shut up, he's alive, quit bitching. Dib, when are you coming home?"

"I can't just come home!" He stands and paces to a place where the reception is better, "Zim's in... Hold on." He turns to the computer, much closer now, "How far are we?"

"Power at twenty percent. Estimated time to completion: one hour, fifty six minutes and counting." It adds, "Condition: critical," as a kind of afterthought. Not that computers can think.

"Zim's in critical condition. I can't leave now." He hears annoyed sounds from his sister and then a growl for someone to shut up. "Who's with you that you're yelling at?"

The other end of the line clicks and then he hears a voice he _never_ expected. "Dib?"

"...T-Tak? _Tak_?"

"Yes. What happened?"

"He... I don't know, I just came... after. After whatever happened. His... his pak, it was-"

"Was his pak destroyed?" Tak asks, fear leaking unbidden into her voice.

"No – well, no, but it was kind of... pulled. Pulled out, a little." He winces, remembering bone and meat, "You could see his spine."

"Shit," the Irken curses. "Ask the computer for his status."

"It said 'critical' – but power's at twenty percent?"

"Shit! Rising or falling?"

"Rising."

"Is he _conscious_?"

"No."

"Good. Good... yes, true, we would have heard him screaming by now if it were otherwise. What is your sister's name?"

The question is left-field so he responds, "Gaz," before thinking to ask why. He decides it's not important, and worries himself with Zim and Tak being here on the same planet, under what could be the same circumstances. "Tak, do you know who did this?"

Silence and crackling.

"Tak?"

"We're coming over," Gaz says, "Be upstairs and waiting for us if you don't want a severe beating."

Click.

"Shit." He looks at Zim and then walks to the small alien. "Zim? Zim, I know you can't hear me right now, but I have to go upstairs. It'll be okay, Zim. Just... Don't worry."

He turns and looks for the nearest elevator up.

* * *

The door slams open and Dib tries not to give Gaz an annoyed look, but can't help it. He hates loud noises.

Tak – undisguised and completely uncaring, wearing some of Gaz's old clothes – pushes past the taller female and asks, "Where is he?"

"Underground. The medical lab." She moves towards the elevator he had used, when he grabs her wrist. "Tak, first, tell me what happened."

"We left Gir at your house," Gaz says, flopping onto the couch. "You shouldn't mind."

"I don't care," he tells his sister, looking at Tak, "You have to tell me what happened."

"I don't have to tell you a damned thing!" the Irken exclaims, glaring with narrowed purple eyes, "It's none of your business what happened, stupid human! Let me see _Zim_!"

"He won't even be able to see you for another hour and a half, Tak, so you have time. Sit down," he motions to the couch, glaring back, "And tell me what happened."

She scowls at him but sits, and then asks, moodily, "Didn't you hear it? Didn't you look into the sky and see it?" She crosses her arms, "I expected _you_, of all people, to watch Zim no matter the distance."

Something hot and liquid seeps into Dib's very core and he almost screams at her, but Gaz cuts him off with, "Things change. Now talk."

Tak looks at her hands and then sighs, antennae flattening against her head and eyes closing halfway.

"I don't know if I can... but... well. It all started when the control brains went crazy.

"Malfunctions on even an infinitesimal scale were unheard of with the control brains, and so no one had expected the major changes in all of the inner system. Perhaps we had grown... too _complacent_ with the machines that we were using for most, if not all our planet work, and perhaps they had seen that, but it doesn't matter anyhow. All that matters is that the control brains malfunctioned in a huge way. They began to systematically... prematurely break the smeets from their tubing. Every one was given a pak, but since they were so _young_... they couldn't hold the paks and the control brains were forced to abandon them.

"By the time this issue had been brought to the attention of the Tallest, they were unable to do anything but watch. There were control brains everywhere that there were more than a dozen Irkens, and we were forced to watch our entire race succumb to simple computers. _Smart_ computers, but computers nonetheless.

"Still... that wasn't it. They could have killed us, each and every one down to the last soldier, but instead they... struck a deal with the races that we hadn't yet had a chance to destroy."

Tak almost chokes and then coughs, shaking her head. "I... I was on duty, on my planet, doing my job, when... when the computers arrived with this... this _thing_. I hardly want to call it a race at all because I've seen only one like him... It was... I didn't even know what had been happening – the connection that I had with the Tallest was a control brain, and it had acted as though nothing was off schedule. Which..." A laugh, "I guess, it all _was_ on schedule.

"Still. I didn't know, and was quite surprised to find the control brain in company with an alien that wasn't Irken. I... _politely_ asked what was going on... and then..."

Dib feels horrible now because the small alien is shuddering head to toe, eyes shut tight. Still, he can't let her stop now, so he just listens. Gaz has her eyes narrowed at the Irken, as though she can read the other's mind and doesn't like what she's seeing.

"The planet was... Was all red. No real resources of its own, other than sunlight and a few small areas of vegetation. It... Everything was stone, cold, and after I got there, I realized that the only useful resources were all underground. It was... a mining planet, maybe? I'm still not quite sure. But the control brain took me, and that _thing_, down to the very core of the planet. I later found that the one who arrived to take me had bought the planet from the control brains... and that the deal included as many Irken workers as he saw fit. They had taken him to all planets with known – and unsuspecting – Irkens, and he had had his pick."

Dib feels ice on his back.

"...Zim..."

Tak looks at him for a long time and then nods. "Zim and I were two of the five he picked. We... are the only ones still alive."

"I..."

_I could have prevented at least part of this_.

"I was first... sent to the mines. When I arrived there, the barracks I shared were with the other four Irkens and a Vortian."

Here, she stops of her own will, and looks to Gaz and then Dib. She closes her eyes, sighs, and says, "The first thing I saw on that planet, to hint at the things to come, was Zim's pak trying to resuscitate him." She shudders, "After that... things could only possibly get worse.

The first Irken to fall was Sklud. I didn't... I didn't know him, obviously, but it still showed how dire the situation was. Zim and I... While we haven't had an excellent alliance in the past, we decided that, if anyone was to try to escape, it would be us. I... I didn't know he could, but Zim gave me his word. He made a promise," she tells Dib, smiling weakly, "He made a promise to keep himself alive, so that he might assist me in escaping."

Dib can hardly breathe. _I could have prevented this._

"We... We worked off each other, balancing plans and ideas until we had a solid heading. But... but then, I was..." She shakes, moans quietly, and finishes, "I was _promoted_. To a personal assistant. I guess my personality showed too much for the control brain, who had informed the _thing_ that I was... a potential issue. He decided I was a challenge."

She shakes her head. "A challenge he accepted, but was unable to beat." She looks stronger now than before and Dib wonders just why she's wearing Gaz's clothing. "Zim and I managed to secure a means of communication, and together we..." She laughs, "We caused a mutiny. In the chaos of the fights, he came and... we left. In a voot – I don't know _where_ he found it – but we left and came to the one place we thought we could... regroup. Here."

"How long ago was this?" Gaz asks, eyes still narrowed.

"A few weeks. We intended to go and try to free the other planets, but once word got out... None of the transmissions we received on our journey here made much sense, but they did prove to us that we could do it. We came to regroup, and we were going to leave. But I suppose now..."

A dry laugh, "I suppose now it doesn't matter... Because it's come _here_."

Dib tries to say something but he can't.

_I could have stopped this_.

"It's been an hour now, Dib," Gaz says quietly, "Go check on Zim." She looks to Tak, "Stay here. We are going to talk." As Dib leaves, she adds, "Dib, wash your face. Blood doesn't make you look cool."

_Oh god_, he thinks, _Tak had to tell us that with blood on my face!_ He enters the first door on the left – a pseudo bathroom – and tries the faucet. Nothing. He'll just have to clean up later.

He stumbles down the hall and wishes for that bottle of rum like nothing else. He could have prevented all of this from happening – he could have kept Zim from all of this pain... He swears and curses himself to high heaven. _How morally just do you feel **now**, Dib? How good and heroic do you feel **now**?_

The computer is beeping steadily and Dib realizes that it's Zim's heartbeat, finally showing up loud enough to be read by the Irken computer.

"How is he?"

"Power at eighty percent. Status: stable. Estimated time to completion: fifteen minutes."

"Great," he says quietly. "Perfect."

He paces for a while, until the computer beeps out of line. "Estimated time to completion: five minutes. Power at eighty-nine percent."

"Thanks," he mumbles, not that computers care about thanks. Then again, maybe it does. Maybe it's a control brain. Who knows? He doesn't even know what they look like.

A groan, and then, "D-Dib?"

He rushes to the Irken's side and kneels down, looking into now glossy red eyes. "Zim! Are you feeling better?"

"I will... be fine, I think."

Zim groans as he shifts slightly, but makes no attempt to get up. He's not nearly lucid enough to do such a thing, and he won't try to pretend he is.

"Zim..."

"What is it, Dib-beast?" the alien mumbles, closing his eyes for a long while before opening them once more. "Why are you here?"

He can see the wheels turning in Dib's head and knows that the other hadn't thought of it.

"...The same reason you are Zim," Dib says quietly, "There's nowhere else for me to be."

Zim frowns. Had he been speaking in his sleep?

"How do you know where I can go?"

"...Tak."

Something explodes – a brain function, a heart function – and he struggles to stand. Dib is over in a second, pushing him down and keeping him from rising. Zim goes slack.

"Is she alright?"

"What?"

"Is she... unharmed?"

"She's okay. She's with Gaz."

"Oh." Zim shakes a little. "That is satisfactory."

"She... told us what happened."

"I... see."

"I'm..." Dib hesitates and looks to the floor. "Zim, I'm sorry."

"You?" Zim laughs weakly. "Why?"

"If I had helped you, you wouldn't have-"

"Brought Tak to Earth once more? Invaded your planet for a second time?"

"What?" Dib blinks and stares with an open mouth. "_No_!"

"_Forgive_ us, Dib-beast, we didn't mean to flee to the only safe planet for us in the galaxy! What right do you-"

"You wouldn't have gone through all that shit!"

The silence almost hurts the Irken.

"...What?"

"You wouldn't have been _enslaved_ for ten years! You would've been _here_!"

"Trying to enslave _you_."

"But-"

"I am _grateful_ that you denied me help. I would not have grasped the seriousness of the situation... I would have been unable to assist Tak."

Dib is silent for a moment, and then asks, "You... you're _glad_ that you had to-"

"You do not know what I've had to do," Zim snaps, before sighing wearily. "You may release me, Dib-monkey."

Dib does and the Irken slowly gets up. His pak shifts a little and he knows nothing will be the same again.

"How is T-T-Tak-"

His pak is _broken_.

"Zim?"

"How long has she been here?"

"...Not long. Zim, what was-"  
"You have blood on your face. There is a cleaning station behind me." Dib slowly moves behind Zim, who struggles off the table. He has to make sure...

"I am going upstairs. Come up when you're d-d-done-"

He's up the chute before Dib can turn.

It takes a while to walk down the hall to the living room – _he_ takes a while, steadying his feet and collecting his thoughts. He wonders briefly if his thoughts have ever been collected, and then decides that spontaneity is his special art.

When he gets to the room, Gaz is pacing and Tak is sitting on the sofa with her antennae flat. She sees him almost immediately and scrambles off the couch, moving to him quickly and standing much closer than Irkens do.

"Zim?"

She touches his shoulders, making sure that he's really _there_ – so strange, for her to show any worry – and her antennae perk.

"T-T-Tak..."

Her eyes widen and she almost recoils in horror – she should have, but she doesn't. She's too good for that, and nothing can frighten her anymore.

"Oh, _Zim_," she rasps, "What... What has that filthy human _done_?"

"D-D-Dib followed orders exactly as I t-told h-him t-t-to. It will p-pass." It sounds too electric, those automatic stutters, even to an Irken, but neither will admit it. Neither wants to say it aloud: Zim's directory of language, sounds, and speech has been damaged irreparably.

There's thumping and Dib comes to the room now as well – Zim is surprised to see the tension between the two humans in the room. He remembers them being... well, annoyed with each other, but never unused to the other's presence, like now. Things have changed, also irreparably.

"So..." the human male mutters, rubbing the back of his head.

"Dib."

"Hey, sis."

The purple-haired woman – girl, woman, female are all the same to Zim when it comes to these young aliens – shakes her head and looks at her brother in disapproval.

"You still haven't figured out how to work a razor."

"You still dress like a dominatrix."

"Cut your hair."

"Dress conservatively."

"Get contacts."

"Stop squinting."

"Douchebag."

"I love you too."

The sentiment is still there between them, that familial bond most biologically-reproducing species carry, and so perhaps the damage is not irreparable.

There's a clicking noise in his brain that reminds him it doesn't matter.

"What happened, Zim? I thought we had a deal-"

Ah, Tak. Always thinking in the right stream. He wishes his thoughts were that coherent.

"I... This is p-private," he says quietly, tilting his head to the side.

"Let's go pick up Gir," Dib quickly cuts in, looking to Gaz, "You still haven't shown me this year's model."

"As long as you don't get the upholstery smelling like cheap bourbon."

Zim doesn't realize that the two have left until the door clicks shut. Immediately, Tak is grabbing his shoulders and shaking violently.

"He's _here_ Zim, we have to go – we have to get _away-_"

He's never seen her like this. Tak has a relatively stoic disposition, if nothing else, and the idea that this... _thing_ has her so worried –

"Zim?"

He mustn't think so hard.

"He c-c-came here."

"He found me, Zim," she mutters through teeth, and he knows she thinks – but that _couldn't_ be, he wouldn't be so _damaged_ if that had –

"I d-didn't t-tell him. I r-refused to t-tell him. He left to find G-Gir."

"Zim..."

"D-Dib-beast must have found him."

"We _must_ leave, Zim," Tak pleads. "He's _here_ – if we stay, he'll do worse than before."

He hates that she has to think again of _before_, but this isn't how she should be acting. She has no respect!

"I w-will n-n-not run," he responds fiercely, "W-We are Irkens, T-Tak!"

"We'll be _dead_ Irkens! We can't fight here; there are too many variables we can't account for. What if a human gets in the way? What if _he_ decides the humans are a better prey than we are? Do you – do _we_ want to be responsible for that?"

"We f-fought for _our_ freedom. If they w-want it, they will fight t-too."

"Your pak is _broken_, Zim! How do you expect to fight when you can't even string a sentence together?"

Zim feels molten-hot anger clicking painfully against faulty gears, and he grabs the neck of Tak's borrowed shirt. "D-Do not t-talk as though I d-don't understand my c-condition! I am not mentally d-deficient because m-my language center has been damaged!"

"Zim!" Tak exclaims, "You pigheaded, tiny little thing, let go of me!"

_click click click –_

"Zim!"

There's a rip and Zim pulls away with a bit of shirt in his fist. He's not sure why he's holding fabric at all, but Tak is staring – he mustn't say anything.

"I will stay." He tries to lift his antennae, but one of them hurts and doesn't seem to want to move. "Y-You may t-take the runner a-and leave, b-but I must s-stay here."

"I'm not leaving without you, Zim. This isn't a mission we can split up on!"

"Then you are s-s-staying as w-w-w..."

His chest hurts and his pak sends shocks through his system.

"Zim?"

"W-W-W-Well. Y-Y-You are s-staying as w-well."

"Zim – we need to get you back down to the repair bay..."

"_No_."

"Zim-"

He won't listen to her – he _can't_, she's lying, he doesn't need to go anywhere – but she has her hands on his shoulders and he can't think properly.

"I w-will wait here until t-the humans r-return."

He hears Tak sigh, but he doesn't pay her any attention – he simply goes to the couch and sits, hoping that his pak will just start working again.

Hope has never gotten him far.


End file.
